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by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Comedy, Enjolras is Apollo's pseudonym, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, a little bit of angst but not much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Summary: Apollo falls in love with musical theatre because he is the god of songs and poetry, aligning his talents and his passion. So, he wants to perform; help the humans.Unfortunately for him this is where he falls in love.(The ratings may change.)(You don't need to know about Les Mis to understand this nor the other way around. This isn't focused on the performance of a musical itself. Why? Because I suck at writing.)(All real-life musicals exist here excluding Les Mis.)
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Éponine Thénardier, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Grantaire/ Apollo
Kudos: 10





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [enjscurls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjscurls/gifts), [drmendelweisenbachfeld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drmendelweisenbachfeld/gifts).



> HOL' UP: Before you read this, I just wanted to say I had more planned but tiredness and uni life is not a good mix, so any progress I make, I'll prolly just post it here. I'm sorry it's crappy writing, but I need to talk to people so bad and loneliness is KILLING me.

Humans were so fascinating! There was never a moment in which Apollo felt a dead end. Socialising with humans, he realised, was an endless freefall. Looking down, he could not see the earth which would cease his fall; instead it was an empty space around him. In the cool air, he could explore liberally in whatever he desired. 

He would take his mind of the evolving race for a short period of time and they would be left alone for who knew how long and they had discovered fire, meddled around with tools, and had built technology far more complex than any creature had developed before.  
It was truly hypnotising to watch them develop and stumble their way into advancement.  
With every confident step they took, flaws bled out of their skin yet they marched on. Watching them from above, Apollo smirked, concluding humans were better than most gods. Excluding him of course.

Unfortunately he could not rest in Olympus forever as the Greek gods lost their fight for eternity for humans shifted their beliefs. After the Roman empire had taken over, Zeus hushed every god and advised them to use their silence as their cloak to hide. Otherwise Jupiter and the other ‘new’ gods would try to hunt them down.

Thus Apollo no longer became the Sun, he was a simple human, with blond curly hair which reached down to his shoulders, and glowing blue eyes, and tanned skin. With his ability severed immensely, he could not manipulate his appearance anymore. All his powers were dedicated to live another day and stay immortal. It would be an annoyance if he died. After all he loved to discover new cultures and music which he kept uncovering endlessly like a surprised rich boy unwrapping piles of christmas presents.

Even in the daily, boring, shackled life, humans continued to entertain Apollo proud and one day believed he would rise and retake the power he once held. At this very moment however he was disguised as a mere man. Though he kept his mastery: poetry, music, dance... He remembered them all.

Fortune clearly approved of him since more and more humans became increasingly experimental with their art. Some may have called it obsession, unhealthy, or downright insanity, but he appreciated their efforts and dedication. With the humans having developed their physique, their vocals, and their art of words, it was enough for them to believe talents owned by Apollo were merely of a ‘gifted’ person and not a supernatural being. Although, admittedly, Apollo was rusty in these activities considering how he was too afraid of being hunted by the next new set of gods. It was difficult, he found, to dilute his so-called ‘amazingness’.

To aid his disguise, he switched his name multiple times: ranging from Alexandria, Augustus, Leia, to Fey.  
Eventually he settled with a name which he believed suited him the best in this century: Enjolras. It was a name he had created on his own. It was very amusing to do so indeed. Humans had evolved from naming their children after the father to jumbled names. 

He remembered Artemis was visibly disappointed as she believed a child should be named after a female guardian who raised them. She grunted, “Instead we have baby fictional characters. The other day I met a boy named Zuko.” She shook her head as she leaned back on her chair, balancing on the back of its two legs.  
“Who’s Suko?”  
“You with a better character arc.”  
He cocked his head. “What's a-”  
“Stop.”  
“Alright.” There was no point in arguing with his sister. She would magically seem to know everything that was happening in the human world despite living fairly isolated in a cabin somewhere in the countryside. 

If one were to believe Apollo to be extreme, they had another thing coming with Artemis- or her human name: Silena, a name rooted from the Moon she absorbed (long story).  
In fact, even with the knowledge of the story, it still did not make logical sense. “Why fashion yourself with that name?” Apollo remembered asking.  
“Victory trophy.”  
He knew she was thinking ‘guilt. Even though she was most likely also thinking about victory.

Ah! Nevermind the tangent that I, the writer, went on. The point was that his sister was highly influential to him and his opinions which would then shame his future human years.  
From hearing the name Suka, or whatever it was, reminded him he was heavily out of touch with the human world. Well, sure he had dated men and women and folks left and right but they always left before much information about their life and their world was given. It seemed in modern days something called a ‘hook’ was normalised. He was sure there was a word of direction that was given after the word… ‘Hook south?’ he supposed. Either way, with this sort of behaviour being deemed normal, and strangely for men, expected, he was free to sleep with whoever wanted with not much talking required. Although he loved intimacy he wished to hold a personal connection to his future partner one day. But for now his mentality was glued to ‘take what you can get’. Or was it ‘swipe what you can steal?’ He was terrible at remembering phrases...

Back to the subject I, the narrator, was meant to talk about: as his interests lied in music and poetry, he roamed his local town and randomly took a hold of strangers’ shoulders and asked them, or maybe demanded them, to tell him where he could find the so-called ‘quality music’ he kept hearing about. A new genre emerged without him being aware of it so he had to listen to them.

Luckily a girl with a cartoonish star on her shirt pointed at a building which she dubbed ‘the local theater’.  
Apollo stared at it longingly. “How do I enter it?”  
“Like… a job?”  
Fire lit in his eyes. “Yes! Even better!” He forgot how easy it was just to walk in and beg on his knees for a job. Back when he was sitting in the clouds, he saw many humans struggle in finding a job due to the restrictions written in their family name.

The woman- or girl?- put her hand out in which Apollo understood as a prompt to hand her his flip phone.  
“Man, you need a life.” She said under her breath, “Here’s their website.”  
“Okay.”  
She briefly glanced up at him until doing a double take. Her eyes grew wide and she gave out a nervous but confident smile. “You don’t… Smell anything on me, right?” She then muttered to herself in a scolding manner, “I was sure to put enough deodorant on…”  
Wanting to relax the either a very small woman or a I’ve-seen-too-much-to-look-innocent girl, Apollo spoke softly, adding a hint of a tune in his voice, “Don’t worry… Your name is?”  
“Eponine.”  
“Eponine.” He smiled kindly, “You are not very sweaty. I can hardly smell it.”  
“No, not that.” She was distracted until she quickly locked eye contact with him. “You won’t believe when I say this, but your eyes are on fire.”  
Apollo paused for a second and rubbed his eyes and soon the blue centre of the fire calmed itself and transformed into his blue pupils.  
“Oh, so I’m hallucinating this.” She stumbled to the wall and lightly put her hand on it. “I’ll be… going… then.” At a snail’s pace she shuffled her feet as she exited at the opposite direction of the theater.

Whatever she was doing, he paid no attention to. He would try to be friendly to humans, but if they didn’t act like humans… Well. Rather, all his thoughts gravitated towards one thing and one thing only: a place where poetry and music mixed to produce magnificence: Musical theatre.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment or request plot points or tropes and Ill think about it in my next crying session :D
> 
> Instagram les mis meme account: @banana.slip


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